Safe and Sound
by MidnightIsCalling
Summary: A series of oneshots following Peeta and Katniss after the war. Post-Mockingjay, pre-Epilogue. Some chapters rated M listed at top of page .
1. Distant Memories

I really do write a lot of one-shots. Hm.

So, I've decided to start a little story, basically a series of one-shots from after the war but pre-Epilogue. I am rating it M for fluff, hopefully. If you have read my other oneshots, you may find that these will contradict them. Well, too bad. (:

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Katniss or Peeta or ANYTHING of the sort. It all belongs to the brilliant Suzanne Collins and her epic series _The Hunger Games_. Deal?

Here we go. Oneshot #1!

* * *

For the longest while since the first Games, it was always Katniss that woke up screaming, thrashing in pain, crying out after a nightmare had once again washed itself into her head during sleep. Peeta would tense up when first coming to, but Katniss was always there, and he was reassured. It became a routine for the two. They would sleep together, sharing the same bed every single night. They took comfort from the other, always surrounded by the other's warmth, the other's soothing, steady heartbeat. If one ever awoke without the other there, both would become anxious, start to have episodes, search frantically for the other.

Tonight, Peeta awoke with a start, sweating, panting, tears running down his face. He had dreamt of Katniss being killed by the mutts, getting shocked by the wire in the Quell, her legs being blow off by bombs during the war. It was all so real, so sensory. It happened over and over, non-stop. He was left on the side, not able to ever reach her, to help her, to hold her as she died. He had also dreamt of his family. His father that he was so fond of, and the middle child of his family that was always there for him. He dreamt of how they did not survive the bombing of the district, how they were choked to death with ash, or how a building might have fallen over them without even a thought to cross their minds before they met their death, how he wasn't there to rescue them.

"Katniss, Katniss," he sobbed, tugging at her night shirt, urging her to wake up. To make sure she hadn't died beside him and left without him. He could not bear the thought of losing anyone else. Luckily for him, Katniss awoke with a startle, her hunting instincts making her sit up in a nanosecond. She looked at Peeta's bright blue eyes in the early morning light, seeing the tears spill over at an alarming rate. His soft, calm face was sad, shriveled from crying.

"Oh, Peeta," Katniss whispered, immediately putting her cheek against his, wrapping her arms around him protectively. She took her hand and softly brushed it against Peeta's cheek, wet and slippery with tears. She looked into his eyes. They were no longer bright with hope or happiness, but with fear, sadness, and a raw vulnerability that Katniss had never seen before. She leaned in, kissing Peeta on the forehead gently, kisses trailing down to his sensitive neck. She took his hands into hers.

His sobbing, choking breaths, wet face, it was all too much, so foreign to her. She should be better at this, but it was always her needing the comfort. She'd been selfish all this time. This was long overdue, but at the same time, something neither one of them wanted. She didn't know how to respond, but after a while of being so close to each other, she learned that she always cried when he did; just like when Prim cried when Katniss did, before she ever knew the reason why.

"It's okay, Katniss," Peeta told her, his voice breaking with tears and choking sobs. "Don't cry, sweetheart, it's okay." He squeezed her hand as one of hers went to rub his back comfortingly. "I love you, Katniss. Don't cry."

Katniss nuzzled him, laying his head in the crook of her neck, resting on her shoulders. She sat him up, his weight heavy on her chest. He was just a mess now, broken. They both were. What the Capitol had done to both of them, of the Games, the war. They had broken the two, and many others, beyond repair. The battle was never really over. This was the hard part. The part they had to live with for the rest of their lives. Shooting and running was easy. Living in peace was hard.

Katniss looked down at her sobbing companion, lover, friend, survivor. Her anchor, to keep her from completely losing it, to keep her from thinking living was a mistake and that there was nobody for her. How Prim, Finnick, Rue, Thresh, Cinna, Darius - her family - all died for the Capitol's enjoyment. Katniss couldn't even help thinking about Foxface, Marvel, Cato and Clove, who did not at all deserve to die at all. They were tennagers like her, trying to survive in this awful place of the Capitol's creation.

She thought of how they would be living good lives, if they survived the war. How Cato and Clove were also lovers (at least, that was the impression), and how they could be like her and Peeta now. Broken, but still have each other. A fate that is not worse than death, for once. How Foxface's unbelieveable cleverness and intellegence could be passed on to other generations. Katniss wondered if she had any siblings, how there could be some of Foxface's red hair running around Panem right now. How Marvel might of had a secret girlfriend at home, that loved him dearly, and how he loved them back. Katniss knew Thresh and Rue, both deserving of a long, happy life. Thresh was very fair, very thoughtful, and would have made a great father, like Peeta. Rue, so gentle and patient, a great mother, a great older sister.

Katniss's tears flowed faster, more and more streaming down her face. She wanted nobody to die since the Hunger Games started. She wished she could take them all back, give them some sort of gratitude from her, to show that she valued them as people, how she recognized that they were, really, more than a piece in the Capitol's Games. But they were gone. That had been gone for about three years now.

Had it only been three years? Three years, when Prim was running around with the back of her shirt sticking out like a duck's tail? When her and Gale would haul in game every Sunday? Katniss dropped her head, kissing Peeta's hair, his body convulsing with the sobbing. Katniss took a deep breath in, and not knowing what else to do, began to sing.

_Deep in the meadow, under the willow, _  
_A bed of grass, a soft green pillow, _  
_Lay down your head, and close your eyes, _  
_And when they open, the sun will rise. _

_Here it's safe, here it's warm, _  
_Here the daisies guard you from every harm, _  
_Here your dreams are sweet, and tomorrow brings them true, _  
_Here is the place where I love you. _

_Deep in the meadow, hidden far away, _  
_A cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray, _  
_Forget your woes, and let your troubles lay, _  
_And when again it's morning, they'll wash away. _

_Here it's safe, here it's warm, _  
_Here the daisies guard you from every harm, _  
_Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true, _  
_Here is the place where I love you. _

_Deep in the meadow, hidden far away, _  
_A cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray, _  
_Forget your woes and let your troubles lay,_  
_And when again it's morning, they'll wash away. _

_Here it's safe, here it's warm, _  
_Here the daisies guard you from every harm _  
_Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true _  
_Here is the place where I love you._

She repeated the lullaby a number of times, Peeta's wrenching sobs ending and his tears thinning out. She squeezes his hands periodically, kissing him. His glazed eyes and face turned to her, and she smiled shyly, cupping his face in her hands.

She could not believe that this was the boy that adored her since they were five years old, how he threw her the bread that saved her family and endured a beating for it, how he cared for her during the two Games, and had forgiven her for her less than ideal behavior. How she could never deserve him, not in a hundred years, Haymitch told her. She believed it. The least she could do was make his pain more bearable.

* * *

I am a real idiot when it comes to breaking up paragraphs, so I hope that I haven't completely messed that up.

Another thing you might have noticed is Peeta's use of calling her "sweetheart". I know a good bunch thinks it's the word Haymitch uses for Katniss, especially in mockery (which it is), but I don't think it's exclusive to him. It's a good "name" for Katniss ("baby", "my love", etc. don't seem to fit at all) and it fits well when Peeta uses it. So if this does happen to irk you and want to make you slap your mother, I apologize.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed. Please review if you can.


	2. Starved Sleep

I remember when Katniss and I would sit on the couch and play "Real or Not Real?", watch our two Games, and any other stuff the Capitol might have found. Well, we still do these things, but we're eventually running out of ideas for things to do pertaining to those activities.

While Katniss was out hunting, I flipped on a video that contained Katniss's trial after Coin and Snow's execution. I watched her in her old training center bedroom, shedding off the Mockingjay outfit and throwing herself onto the bed, blood making small pools into the cloth of the bare mattress. I watched her limp into the bathroom and come out clean, eventually placing a hospital gown on her body. She finds the food on the table, and eats all that is there. She rubs some medicine on her skin, and then lays on her side on the bloody mattress. I see her eyes scan the room, looking at the window, up at the ceiling, and then glare at the location where the camera must have been hidden.

The video must skip a couple of days, perhaps a week, because a short screen of black appears, and I see Katniss wobbling around the room on her stilt-like legs. She's been starving herself, it looks like. She has real clothes, but even the most modest ones can show the sharp edge that her rib cage, hips, and elbows give off due to lack of nutrition. Her face is sharp, her skin yellowed and eyes large. I notice how clear the picture is on the television, because I can see her grey eyes becoming very pale and hazy.

Another black screen lapse, and I see snow falling outside; she sits beside the window and touches the glass. I watch her eyes looks outside. It was a curse that they put her room next to a patch of grass with evergreens. I can see the dark green in her eyes, her sad face aching to touch a needle. It's far below her; she it looks like she wants to kick the window open and jump. She even pounds her hands and runs her body into the window, but it makes a pathetic booming sound at her attempts. It's not even slightly damaged, despite her hours of trying.

For the past week or so, she had been singing all day, all night. Against the window, in the bathroom, in her sleep, when she first wakes up. She hums pretty melodies, sings lullabies, whistles mountain airs. She seem to be enjoying herself. I savor the sound of her voice. It's gorgeous. I've almost forgotten how beautiful it is.

I then think of how she can sings for hours and hours and not replay one single song. How she was so young when her father dies, how he was the one that probably taught her all the songs. She must be very smart to have picked up that many songs at such a young age. _Of course she's smart,_ I think to myself. Who the heck else would know so much about survival, how people think, about music?

I now hear her come into the door, the smell of game and the woods entering the house. I hear the ruffing of her game bag, the thud of her boots, and the closing of the front door. I pause the tape and join her in the kitchen, only to notice she's gotten a number of scrapes on her cheeks, shoulders, and neck, and that her pants are soaking wet.

"Katniss, are you alright?" I ask in a hurried voice. She turns to me slowly, looking at me as if I'm strange.

"I'm okay, Peeta. I just had an accident," she replied simply, putting her game bag out onto the porch and stripping off her hunting clothes. Her legs are shiny with water and the scars on her upper body are puckering. "I'll clean up right away, don't worry." She walks through the doorway, and looks at me. "Are _you_ okay, Peeta?" She puts her hand on my shoulder and gives me a kiss.

"Yeah, yeah," I reply. "Go wash up, take care of your cuts." I nod to her, and she walks towards the stairs. I forget entirely that she has to pass the living room first, and she sees herself on the screen. "Peeta?"

I sigh, walking towards the living room. Katniss is sitting down on the couch, next to the spot where I sat. I walk in and sit down beside her, ready to be screamed at for invading on her privacy.

She turns to look at me. "How much have you watched?"

"You've started singing, and there's snow falling," I reply. She must remember this... right? She seems to, as she nods and turns toward the screen, pressing the play button on the remote.

Time passes on the video, and although she looks deathly thin - as if she will drop dead any second - she starts to eat again. One day she takes a roll, another one, she nibbles on a piece of beef. Despite this, her body is at it's worst. Her eyes were large, and her hip and rib bones stuck out of her skin sharply. She has a permanent look on her face that plainly says "I want to die". I frown and look over at Katniss, who has since recovered.

Well, sometimes she has these little "diets" of hers where she refuses to eat or get out of bed for a couple of days. She loses weight surprisingly quickly. I'm pretty sure that by now, I can tell exactly how wide her hips are, measuring right down to the bone. Of course it worries and scares me, but we are slowly healing.

Katniss's eyes are flickering between me and the television, and she looks at me intently. I bring my hand to her shirt, and she lifts it up to right under her bust for me. I brush my hand over her rib cage and hips. As a whole her ribs and hips stick out like any other girl's, but I can't count her individual ribs and her hips seem to have a modest layer of fat on them. She seems pretty healthy, given how we live off of bread, wild plants, and game.

She looks at me contently, bringing her shirt back down and begins to lean on me. I open my arms for her and she curls up into my lap, her head resting on my chest. I kiss her hair and look up at the television as she spends days just laying in bed. The camera zooms in on her, and even the smallest breath becomes a struggle. Her curves have disappeared, her face is pale, and she looks like she's slipping away. There is nothing to her anymore.

If I had seen this live, I would have thought she would have been dead that night.

But here she is, healthy and happy, given our circumstances. I look up at the screen, where the camera look a close-up of her face, sad and swollen, and look down at the Katniss on my lap, who looks up with me with pretty much the same look. But her eyes show something like innocence and fatigue. She eventually curls her head against my chest and falls asleep. I can't help but kiss her, thankful for her being here, alive and well.

So we stay like this for a few hours while Katniss sleeps. I manage to lay back, relax my feet, and bring a blanket over the both of us. It's early spring, Katniss's favorite time of the year, and she takes a lot of time to go outside during this time. Here in the Appalachians, it still snows in March, so it's pretty chilly outside.

I start to doze, too, and when sunset dawns on us, Katniss stirs. I brush my hand against her shoulder and point to the sunset out of one of the windows. Katniss looks towards the light, the orange and pink reflecting in her eyes. Simply beautiful. "I didn't want you to miss it," I say quietly.

We both obviously remember the time we were on the roof before thr Quarter Quell. She looks at me tenderly, and it makes my heart melt. We both lean in for a gentle kiss before the sun disappears and the sky is replaced with glittering stars and a navy blue sky. I remember the night on the roof, too. When I was with her. I can still feel the breeze on the roof, hear the windchimes and the rustling plants in the garden.

There is simply nowhere else I'd want to be right now.


	3. Two Is Better Than One

Another oneshot, making this series now rated M. Hopefully this can get some more reviews in. What am I kidding... it does. It's about time our little Everlark couple loses their virginity. :D

Takes place before the epilogue (obviously), but is part of the book, hinted on the last page. It took me four run-throughs of the book, six run-throughs of the chapter, and at least ten run-throughs of the page just to get the hint. Don't judge me.

**Disclaimer**: Not mine. I think we all know the drill. Onwards!

* * *

I feel that thing again. The thing I felt on the beach with Peeta. That warm, tingly sensation that stretches from my core to practically every inch of my body. In the dark of the night, we can barely make out each other's faces, arms, legs. The night breeze flowing through the open bedroom window make my bare skin feel like it's on fire. The wind is taunting me.

We're both unsure of this. We're both so unstable... still recovering from the war, still finding each other. What happens of Peeta has a flashback and strangles me against the bedpost? What if I back out at the last second? What if...?

But we're practically unstoppable right now, just as we have always been. The Star Crossed Lovers of District 12. I can feel Peeta's manhood hard against my center, his warm and muscular body above me on this bed of white sheets and numerous pillows. I can feel the soft fabric caress my bare skin, and Peeta's warm, calloused hands brushing over my bare breasts, my stomach, my wet and sensitive thighs. I thought that I would be embarassed to have Peeta see me naked the first time, but it feels very... natural around him. It feels good and whole and just amazing.

I can feel Peeta's manhood right against my entrance, eager to find release. I look up to him, seeing his loving blue eyes filled with need and doubt. He cups my face in his hands, brushing a few astray hairs back from my face. He looks breathless, a small smile on his lips. How I adore his smile.

"Go ahead," I whisper to him, cupping my hand against the back of his neck. "I trust you."

I feel him lean down and touch his lips to mine, holding me in a gentle kiss, caressing my head, playing with my hair. He slowly repositions himself, and I can feel his manhood barely slide into me when I slightly startle and whimper, not having anything been down there before. That and the pain of having that tight, hidden part of my body expand from being filled by Peeta. I like the sound of that. Peeta inside me. Two becoming one.

He stops the kiss, nuzzles me and whispers, "Did I hurt you?" I find his lips again and reposition myself, giving him better access to me. How Peeta can read his mind is beyond me. But he goes deeper into me, and the pain is replaced by something that sends my entire body into flames. I can feel sweat breaking at the hairlines on my head, the summer heat taking it's toll. I give Peeta a gentle, playful nip on his cheek, and he begins to slowly thrust in and out.

I experience a hunger that is ten thousand times worse than the one on the beach, the need for Peeta unbearable. I pull him towards me, moving my hips in rhythm with his, feeling the sensation of him going even deeper. I never knew much about sex, but I know that it could not get any better than this.

I feel Peeta reaching his peak, and with a few gentle thrusts, I feel his seed come into me. It's an odd sensation, but it's pleasantly intimate. I feel Peeta's body relax with this act, hear him take a deep sigh as he begins to play with my hair again. This is what's supposed to happen, and I can't believe how wonderful this all is. I don't even care about maybe getting pregnant from this. It's just me and Peeta, and I cannot ask for any more.

* * *

Some of the stuff seemed... odd. Hmm. Well, leave a review, if you can, please!


	4. Reaching Out

Thank you to my two reviewers! I really appreciate your feedback! I really try to keep these two in-character and make sure the read is interesting enough.

Peeta's POV this time around. Mostly Hurt/Comfort. Enjoy!

* * *

It's like when Katniss was in her old Training Center room after Coin's assasination. How she tried to starve herself, make herself become smaller, make herself disappear from the world. How she wanted to kill herself. It pains me greatly to see her like this. I can tell she just feels awful, suicidal even. It makes me wonder if I'm a good husband, if I'm taking care of her like I'm supposed to. It doesn't seem like it.

So these "dark weeks" she has mostly comprise of her starving herself, not leaving the bedroom, and crying for hours on end. Sometimes she would nap after crying, but we both knew how unsettling sleep is. We also discovered how her place of safety, of all places, was the bathtub. She would sit in a dry, empty bathtub for hours on end and watch her tears roll down the drain. Sometimes she filled it up with soap and had a bubbly bath. Yes, Katniss likes bubbles.

How do I know this? I watch her. It's painful sometimes, yes, but Katniss usually wants to be by herself when she has these weeks. I tried to help her but it eventually got to where she ignored my offering to help. So I sit by the sink while Katniss lays down in the bathtub and watch her.

Today, though, was different.

Of course it started off with me watching her beside the sink while she did her normal routine in the bathtub. Today she filled the bathtub up to her ankles, leaving out the bubbles. She had her clothes on, too. Which meant her pants and underwear were soaked, but she couldn't give a damn about clothes.

She turned her head towards me, and I could see it red and moist with tears. Her mouth and face were wrinkled from crying and her body was racking with sobs. She did a good job of hiding it. When she turned to face me, I heard the first word she'd said all week. "Peeta," she said, like a child, stretching her arms out for me. I couldn't resist this. This was a breakthough. She was asking for my help, and I gladly accepted, picking her up and carrying her into our bedroom. I put her down on our bed and immediately wrapped myself around her, kissing her everywhere I could. I love this woman so much.

She was with me, and I could be here for her. That's all that mattered.

* * *

Ending seemed lame. Hmm. Review?


	5. Missing Half

Another oneshot (that might become a two-shot), hooray!

So I'm a fan of the Seven Kingdoms trilogy, which creepily resembles The Hunger Games. But eh. I was reading one of the books and... this came up. I decided to carry it over to HG with out lovely buddies over here.

**Disclaimer**: Mental inspirations come from Kristen Cashore's _Bitterblue_. Other inspirations and all that other junk is from The Hunger Games trilogy by Suzanne Collins.

Fantastic. Let's get started.

* * *

"Peeta?" Katniss asked from her chair at the dinner table.

"Yes?" I replied, finishing off my rabbit leg from her hunt last night.

"Is... can... can I see Gale sometime?" she asked quickly, as if expecting me to... lunge for her throat. I blinked twice. It's been years since.

"I... I... _miss_ him, Peeta," she said shakily. I could see it in her eyes that she truly did. That she was regretting breaking off communications with him after the war. That... she was missing an important part of her life, an important part of her _self_, for those long years. I nod to her, taking her hand from across the table. "I really do, Peeta."

"I understand, Katniss. When would you like to go?" I ask her. I don't think she'll want me there. I don't blame her.

"I want _us_ to go... soon," she replied. Wait... _us_?

"You... want me to come with you?" I ask. Surely she must be very troubled right now. She must not be thinking clearly. "Katniss, if you go by yourself, I'mm be fine. I'll have Haymitch-"

"No, Peeta. I want you to come with me. Maybe you can talk to him, if you want to." She looked into my eyes, scared, but hopeful. I can tell she wants this, despite her fears of rejection. My brave Katniss, as always.

"Okay," I say simply. "I'll go." I take her hand and place a kiss on one of her knuckles.

"Thank you, Peeta," she says. "I love you."

I smile at her, sort of stupidly. "I love you, Katniss."

* * *

Katniss ends up sending Gale a letter. It took her hours to write it, and another week to send it. When when the reply comes back, she opens it almost immediately. She smiles when she reads it, and I take this as a _very_ good sign. She hasn't smiled in weeks. "Is he coming?"

Katniss nods, folding the paper back up neatly. "He'll be here in a week."

* * *

We wait for the train from District 2 to appear at the train station, and at lunch time, it does. We watch a small group of people emerge from the cars. Finally, a man strongly resembling Katniss walks out, searching forsomeone in the crowd. He finds Katniss first, of course, and he slowly walks over to her. I see them both look at each other strangely before they embrace.

I see Gale's face when he wraps his arms around Katniss. His face is fierce, not caring about anything else but her, not even me. Not with anger is his face fierce, though. With... protectiveness. With relief.

Gale's hand makes a fist around the back of her shirt, and as they move a little bit, I see Katniss's face tucked into his shoulder, also fierce with protectiveness and with the feeling that she has found a huge piece of herself again. They blend into each other well, despite their differences.

Even though I really distrust his temper and destructive nature and that they will probably squabble sometime, I do trust him with Katniss. He kept her alive during the hard times, when her father died. When both their fathers died from the same explosion in the mines. How they both risked their lives to provide for their families, how they supported each other those tough years, how he cared for her when I was gone after the Quell, during the war.

For a second I feel a pang of jealousy over this tall, handsome man. But I know it isn't right. They shared each other's secrets, taught each other to survive, became best friends, companions. I couldn't have given that to Katniss, but now I'm relieved she had that seonse of comfort and security. With anyone. If she were to leave me for some reason, I'd feel comfortable with him protecting and comforting her.

They let go of each other after what seems to be a long time, and they both turn towards me.

"Can we all go home now, Peeta?"

* * *

I ship Katniss x Gale as well. Sorry, but loyalty and friendship is superior to nearly anything else.

I think this will stay as a oneshot. Reviews, please?


	6. Birthday Surprises and A New Life

Okay, so if I calculate correctly, Katniss agrees to "giving" Peeta children at age 33. (Try to guess what the story's about now. XD) But... I can't imagine them at that age, so we're gonna _pretend _they're like, 20/21 or somethimg, okay? I know it's lame, but it's easier for me to write it like this.

**Disclaimer**: If I owned the Hunger Games, I'd have my own horse. But that's not happening.

Chapter rated **M** for suggestive sexual... stuffs (end of third bar, italics).

Katniss  
_Peeta_

* * *

Today was January 18th, Peeta's birthday, and I rose early to attempt to bake a cake for him. Empasis on the word "attempt". He's the one that makes the desserts, breads, and sandwiches, and I get the game, fruits, and veggies, and roots. We've tried to swap roles, and... we're not going to try that again. I'm just lucky that Peeta's bakery skills can bring in an income, even if it's small.

I'm from The Seam, so seeing all these blonde hair, blue eyed people with money to walk in and buy desserts is a strange sight. I'm getting used to it now, but I still wonder what they think of The Seam people, the people that look and live differently from them.

I gather basic ingredients, finding an old and dusty cookbook hidden under the the sink in the kitchen, and using it as a guide to making a simple cake. I find white vanilla icing and food coloring, mixing colors until I can make a really clay-like orange. It's close enough. I somehow pre-heat the oven and stick the batter into a mold that I see Peeta use for special order cakes, waiting for about fourty-five minutes. I could tell by the sun.

I used mits, careful not to burn myself, and rest it on the counter-top. I let it sit and cool as I peek into the bedroom, seeing Peeta still asleep. Yesterday was a big day for him, as someone from the Capitol heard of what fine cakes one of the winning trubites from the Hunger Games makes, and ordered one. It was shipped off early this morning, and Peeta worked well into the morning to make it perfect.

I returned to the cake, taking a spreader and spreading the orangey icing onto the cake. I proceed to dump a bunch of sprinkles on it and somehow manage to legibly write "Happy Birthday to my Boy with the Bread". Just as I make the final touch, Peeta stumbles into the kitchen, his eye widening at the orange... slop at the table. He wobbles as quickly as he can to the oven making sure it's off, and checking the kitchen to make sure it's all clean and non-explosive. He turns to me, and gives me an embrace.

"Happy birthday, Peeta," I say. "I... made you a cake." I smile the best I can, but there's no visible difference.

He kisses me, wrapping him hands around my waist, looking at the cake that looks like it's covered in clay from the Meadow. "It's wonderful Katniss, thank you."

I look at it. I'm proud of it, and thankful that I have watched Peeta make so many cakes. It's actually quite good, considering Peeta has always helped me make one. I can tell Peeta is proud, too, because he slices the cake and goes to eat a piece. He hasn't gagged, thrown it up, given me a weird look. "It's like the cakes my second-oldest brother used to make. I really love it, thank you."

"You're welcome," I say. I hesitantly take a slice of cake as well, and sit beside him at the small couter-top table, and eat a piece of cake. He wasn't lying; this is pretty good. I sigh, remembering that I can go hunting later.

I really miss Gale, and a tear almost escape when I think of how we haven't spoken in such a long time. He's in District Two, supposedly with a great job. He's probably off kissing other girls... he's probably forgotten about me.

"Katniss?" Peeta brings me back to reality, putting a hand on my knee. "Are you alright? What's the matter?"

"Oh, I'm okay, Peeta," I reply. I'll have to save my feelings for the Meadow. "Thank you for asking." I don't know what else to say, but before he can say something, I tell him, "Peeta, for your birthday... I'll give you... children." Well, that was sudden.

He stand there for a second, half-shocked, half-unconvinced. "A-are you sure? Katniss, if you don't want them, it's okay, really."

I look at my husband, nodding definatly. "Peeta... I want children, too. And we can try as much as you like." I've been so... mean, so unsympathetic to Peeta over these past few years, this is the least I can do for him. I need to stop being so self-centered.

All of a sudden, Peeta grabs me from my seat and gives me a huge hug, twirling me around the best he can with a prosthetic leg. He gives me a huge kiss on the lips and sets me down. I can't help but smile a little. I haven't seen him this happy... well, at all. He's literally bouncing around, so happy for my approval.

I'm afraid he's going to hurt himself, and at this point, I approach him and ground him. "Okay, okay, Peeta!" He calms down only slighty, just enough to stop the bouncing. "Peeta, I'm going hunting now, okay? Makes sure this place doesn't light on fire. Don't knock anything over." And I let him calm down on his own, doing what he loves; painting.

I grab my hunting jacket, my new boots from 13, and run to the perimiter, the electricity not on, as usual. I return to my tree, where my bow and sheath of arrows lie dormant overnight. It still bothers me that I hunt on a graveyard, but I still find food.

* * *

I return as usual, with a few pieces of game; a pigeon, a raccoon, and some fish. I set them down in the back of the bakery, lighting a fire like I usually do and cook them. Although me and Peeta can afford much better foods, we still prefer our game to what the Capitol would feed us: beef, lamb, all that. I ocassionally invest some money into lamb stew, but I usually only let myself get away with it for my birthday.

I walk into the bakery's back door, and I see Peeta on the couch, smiling at me as I walk in the door. I'm sweaty, dirty, and my hands have blood on them from the game. I'm not appealing at all. But he's still grinning.

"Hi Peeta," I say, walking into the residential kitchen, putting the game into the oven. Peeta comes and wraps his arms around my waist, kissing my sweaty hair. "I think I'm going to go take a bath," I say.

"Can I come with you?" Peeta asks, grinning. He's so adorable when he's excited. I love seeing him happy.

I look at him, his eyes showing want, his face showing happiness... and hope. I can't deny the Boy with the Bread. I nod, walking towards the bathroom. I strip and step into the tub after the water heats up, resting for a moment in the soothing warm water. It feels great on my sore muscles, and the warmth is very calming.

Peeta steps into the bathroom and starts stripping right in front of me as if this is nothing, taking his prosthetic leg and placing it against the wall. We've done this before, sure, but we always had the fear we were being watched, that there was a camera, and that someone would hear us, and we'd have to keep our voice down. We'd always used a condom, too. Speaking of that, Peeta put one on the table beside the tub. Always thinking of me, just in case I'd changed my mind or wasn't ready for kids.

I open my arms for him, letting him move over towards me. This tub was big enough so we could both lay side by side. Although I've been doing this my entire life, the hunt from this morning has made me tired, and the afternoon calm and heat makes me even sleepier. And the warm water isn't helping. I lean into Peeta's chest and sigh, ready to take a nap.

"Do you want to sleep?" Peeta asks.

I look up at him. "You're in change of waking me up," I say, smiling, my eyelids becoming heavy.

Peeta sighs, kissing me on the head and resting his head on my shoulder, in the nook of my neck. I begin to fall asleep, and before I can open my eyes up, I'm a goner.

* * *

I wake up and the afternoon heat is still strong, the sun blocked and only leaking through the leaves of the trees that are surrounding our home. Peeta is still beside me, and I can tell he's been dozing the entire time. Both of us are wrinkly from the bath tub, and I smile. Peeta and I nuzzle each other, and then he kisses me straight on the lips. A fire ignites, the speed of the spark catching surprises even me, and even though I'm in water, I once again feel like the girl on fire.

_Katniss looks unbelievably beautiful in water. My Girl on Fire. This girl is the one that went to the same school as me, stood with me on stage at the Reaping, saved me in the Arena twice, risking her life for me, and survived the mess with Snow and Coin's assassination, still kept me after the Capitol tried to mess with my memories of her and programmed me to kill her. I can't believe how lucky I am._

_Katniss tastes sweet, probably like those berries and roots she must have eaten while she hunted. My Girl On Fire, depsite being in a bath of water, is just was hot as ever, and I cannot believe she's mine. I nearly latch onto her as I kiss her, only letting go to get air. My nerves are on fire. My breathing, and hers, too, quickens._

_"Peeta," she tries to say between the kisses. "I want..."_

_I know what she wants, my Girl on Fire, and I don't plan on disappointing. I place my hips onto hers ever so slowly, and I can feel her surrounding me. She doesn't make any noises that make her seem like she's harmed, but happy. My Katniss is happy._

* * *

_Katniss comes to me one day in the beginning on spring as I'm baking cookies, tears streaming down her face and shaking. It's evident that she's trying to hide her emotions, but she hugs me and digs her face into my shirt and hides, like she did during the interview after our first Games. I look at her sadly, trying to calm her down. "Katniss, what's the matter? Are you okay? Are you hurt?"_

_She croaks out a "no", and grabs onto me tighter. "I-I'm so scared. B-but I-I know you'll be h-happy, and m-maybe soon, I will be, too." I still can't figure out what's going on... unless... __She takes a huge breath and nearly yells, "Peeta, I'm pregnant."_

_I manage to release her grasp on my shirt, and look at her, tears, red face, red eyes, eyes pleading for help. I can't help but smile at the thought of children. A little child with Katniss's grey eyes, her brown hair. Maybe even a kid with my blond hair and blue eyes. "Katniss, that's wonderful!"_

_She looks up at me as if I'm crazy, but then smiles. "I'm glad, Peeta. We're having a baby."_

_I cannot contain my excitement anymore, and I lift her off the floor, twirling her around and bouncing with as much joy as I can manage with a prosthetic leg. Katniss, despite her tears, smiles. I put her down, brushing her hair away from her face, and kissing her gently on the lips. "That's great, Katniss. You've just made me a very happy man."_

I guess this won't be all of a terrible thing. But I'm scared to death. There's this little thing inside me that needs me to keep it alive. This isn't anything new, of course, but it has to come out (which will be nothing short of a miracle) and then we have to raise it. I'm not good at this kind of stuff. Peeta is, maybe, but still. This situation scares the heck out of me. But it's for Peeta, for my Boy with the Bread. This is one thing he has wanted so badly. I smile at him, and nuzzle and head into the nook of his neck.

I don't deserve Peeta, my wonderful, forgiving, caring, loving Peeta. As Haymitch said, I do not deserve him, not even if I lived a thousand lifetimes. But we have a child together now, and I can't go back. But I don't want to.

* * *

When the baby was growing, Peeta couldn't see my baby bump or feel the baby's movements, not for a while. I could, fully well. It scared the hell out of me. I feel bad for Peeta, not knowing what to do with my insanity when my child - my baby girl - pressed her foot to my belly. He didn't know how insane I became when I felt a living being inside me, alive because of both of us, sustained by my care.

Peeta noted how small my abdomen was compared to other pregnant mothers he saw come into the bakery when they craved something sweet. He remembered their bellies swollen, like a sack of flour stuck onto their stomachs, covered by their shirts, if they could afford maternity clothes. He noted that he had no idea how a baby, full term, was in the small belly of mine. He didn't know how a baby bigger than a plum was in there. He was worried.

* * *

I decided that I wanted the baby to be born at home, not in some facility that resembles the hospital that got bombed in District 8 or the place I went to in the Capitol where I got a bunch of alterations made to my body before the Games.

I felt a pang in my abdomen in when I was settling down for my bed, my belly heavy. I was sick of this, being helpless and useless. I was angered that I could hunt in my condition, how I verbally abused Peeta throughout the pregnancy. How Peeta though my belly was beautiful is beyond me.

Anyways, he was downstairs making bread when I inconveniently had my water break on the bed and started screaming in fear. Peeta ran (well, wobbled) up the stairs as fast as he could, seeing me roll around like Buttercup after a big meal. How I despise that cat...

"Katniss, what..." Peeta saw the mass of liquid running through the sheets from between my legs and his eyes widened. He really looked like he was going to have a heart attack.

"Peeta, I... I don't know what to do. Can you please call Hazelle?" I asked, and he nodded, not knowing what else to do either. Hazelle is Gale's mother, and a great help for little medical emergencies. I trusted her to help me with this, as she had a good number of kids.

Hazelle came in a short amount of time after Peeta called her, and they both came upstairs to find me helplessly rolling around in bed. Like I had anything better to do. Hazelle carefully looks at me and says I'm doing well, and that I'll be laying here for a while. Great.

Peeta stays in bed with me while Hazelle rests for the upcoming night. I try to sleep, and Peeta dozes. I can tell it's going to be a long night.

* * *

At about one A.M., I start feeling a really great pain in my abdomen, and I know from my mom's experience with Prim that now's a good time to take a bath, and I fill the tub best I can with warm water. I undress and slip in, noticing Peeta has just stirred, and Hazelle as well. I sigh and learn my head back, letting the warm water relax me. Peeta comes in and sits beside the tub, seeing that Hazelle is coming up the stairs and that I'm not in terrible pain, although the pain could really take a hike.

I just look at Peeta as he sits beside me in the tub and hold my hand. "You should get some sleep," I manage to mutter, the pain getting progressively worse. "I'll wake you up when the baby gets going." But he doesn't seem to be budging.

"I want to stay here with you. Just in case something happens," he says.

"If anything happens, it'll be for a while. Please Peeta, go back to bed," I tell him, squeezing his hand. "I promise I'll get Hazelle to wake you up when it's time."

Peeta sighs, nodding. "Okay, Katniss. Wake me up anytime, okay? I won't leave you, you know that." He gives me a kiss before he wobbles back to the bedroom, letting Hazelle take his place.

"Hello, Katniss. Feeling alright?" she asks, and I nod. I know it'll get worse soon enough. I step out of the tub and lay down on a bed of towels, and Hazelle takes a look at me. "Well, you're doing well for a first-time mother. It'll be a few hours, most likely, before we can get the baby out." I nod, sighing and resting my head onto the lip of the tub.

"You will be fine, Katniss," she says. "You're the strongest I've seen." I give her a small smile before she walks out to get a few more hours of rest before the baby arrives.

* * *

I drain the tub, not wanting to look like a raisin when my baby girl makes her apperance. I feel an awful pain later in the dark morning, feeling the urge to get my baby out into this word, to make my inside hollow again. In this case, it wouldn't be so bad.

I tell Hazelle, and she awakens and checks on me, leading me to a small room in the huge mansion we'd never had use for. Next door is me and Peeta's bedroom, and across from that is the baby's nursery. Peeta called this the Yellow Room, because he said the day our child makes an apperance would remind him of bright, soft sunshine.

In this room is a bed, a few chairs, and a set of curtains covering a window that showed the hills of the lush green mountains off in the distance. I love to sit by the windowsill sometimes during the winter, seeing the loandscape covered in a gorgeous white blanket. There were a number of towels and blankets throughout the room, and plenty of room for any equipment the baby might need.

Hazelle opens the curtains, the sun rising in the landscape before us shining orange tinted light on the darkening October trees. Peeta would love to look out the window now. He would just love this, to paint this.

Hazelle leads me onto the bed, placing a number of dark blankets and towles and some slippery thing of some sort under me. She checks me, telling me I'm fully dialated, that the pain will be gone very soon. When Hazelle retrieves Peeta, I can feel the baby down far near my pelvis, eager to get out, or small and strong enough to move by themselves.

Peeta arrives into the room, immediately at my side, smiling, his blue eyes nervous, but extremely happy. I smiled, and felt a pang of pressure from our girl, who we decided to name Poppy. It was both a flower, and a seed used in breads. It worked for both of us.

Hazelle reminded me of the task ahead, and while I held Peeta's hand, I pushed. Peeta looked down there once, when Hazelle said she could see the baby crowning. I let Peeta feel the baby's soft light head when she was barely showing herself.

It came a surprise to all of us (much less to me, of course... I could feel it) that with only three big pushes, our little Poppy slid out from me fully, bringing herself boldly into the world. A tear immediately ran down Peeta's face when Hazelle, smiling widely, placed Poppy on my chest. Peeta smiled widely, kissing me and watching Hazelle clean Poppy. Peeta gladly cut the cord once it turned . I was exhausted from all the pain I'd had since last night and gladly let Peeta hold her first. I was still getting over the fact that Poppy was outside in the real world.

Soon after, I delivered the afterbirth, and Hazelle cleaned up the bloody sheets while I held Poppy. Peeta was overjoyed still. He must be... this was what he's always wanted. I smiled at his goofy happiness, looking at Poppy. She had dark hair like me, and baby blue eyes. But she was so small. I had seen a number of newborn babies from when my mother would take in various women in the district, and of all of them I'd seen, my Poppy was the smallest. I looked at her for just a moment before she yawned and turned her head away from me. I handed her to Peeta, looking to sleep myself. It's been a long year. But I couldn't be happier. Not when Peeta was this happy, when we had finally became a family, when I could see Hazelle walking around with this much brightness in her eyes. Not when the world was this calm and safe.

* * *

I hope you all... kind of... enjoyed it. My writing personally digusts me to a degree, so it's up to reviewers to make sure that I don't butcher these things. Thanks for reading! And review, please? I have like... 1500 views of this thing, and the reviews are lacking. Please, review if you can!


	7. A Bed of Grass

I really think my writing is... amateur. Well, it is, of course, it's not top quality, but it feels like it's really... lacking. Meh.

A big shoutout to my reviewers. Thank you VERY much for your kind words and encouragement!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything from _The Hunger Games_.

* * *

She blinked rapidly, trying to keep her eyes open, refusing to succumb to sleep. She had done nothing exhausting as of yet, besides going out hunting during the morning, bringing in a turkey and a few rabbits despite having to travel an extra mile to find them. She refused breakfast and lunch when she returned; her stomach wasn't needy for food. But it was evident that she needed sleep now, in the mid-afternoon, when the sun was hot and the wind was cool. Katniss liked this temperature, this type of weather.

She saw Peeta on the porch, painting a picture of something. His bright blue eyes focused on an array of colors and a wheat colored palette. Sometimes he would gaze at her, to watch her, but he mostly focused on his painting, which was fine with her. She enjoyed being somewhat in her own world, being able to roll around in the shady grass, smell it's crisp, dewey scent, feel the tips of the blades tickle her palms.

She was glad that they had a lawn of soft green grass, with various flowers and trees planted. Her favorite was always the one tree in the backyard with bright green leaves, that hung over her like a cloak, covering her from sunlight. This reminded her of the lullaby, and with that, she lay on her side, loosening her body and closing her eyes, feeling the warmth in the air, the breeze on her skin. She let the world take the reins for once.

Peeta knew this exhaustion was from the medication that the Capitol doctors gave her. They calmed her temper and help stabilize her emotions, but the biggest change was that she needed more sleep. Peeta knew it was mean to want it to be like this, but he liked it when Katniss was rested and calm. He sighed, looking towards the large leaved tree in the backyard, seeing Katniss laying under it calmly. He smiled and placed down his supplies, walking into the yard and lifting up Katniss's head so that it rested on his lap. He stroked her hair and rubbed her stomach (as he found out earlier that she loved it when he rubbed her abdomen), watching her chest rise and fall gently.

Occasionally, her body made small twitches. Her fingers sometimes curled inwards into a clenched fist, and then released themselves slowly. Peeta slipped his hand inside Katniss's loose fist, and when they clenched again, they wrapped around his last three fingers, like a child's would. The light grip stayed, and Peeta brushed his thumb on the back of Katniss's hand as she slept.

When the sun was sinking behind the mountains, Katniss woke, still under the tree. She felt a chill on her skin, and stretched, feeling Peeta beside her when her toes brushed up agsainst his leg.

"Feel better?" Peeta asked. She remembers this boy very well. From the cave, the beach, the rainy day at the shop. Katniss nodded absentmindedly at the question that she almost forgot about, immediately going into hug and kiss him on the soft grass, rolling on top of him.

"I love you, Peeta."

* * *

Meh. I think the transition was weird. But, anyone want to review? Please?


	8. When Things Come Tumbling Down

A huge thanks to my reviewers! Love you guys. (:

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing related to _Hunger Games_. Kapeesh?

* * *

I remember this boy very well, the Boy with the Bread. His bright blue eyes, his muscular stature, the way he looked at me that rainy day; how he looked in the cave, his wounds, on the beach, when his heart stopped.

I almost forget that I'm looking him like he's prey. I reach my hand out slowly to him, to touch his face. I suddenly see his eyes dilate, his body start to shake. He collapses onto the floor, grasping for the table legs. I know this is an episode of his, and I sit still. Sometimes movement makes it worse, sometimes it doesn't. He starts thrashing under the table, crawling out from under it and his eyes locking on me.

"Peeta," I say frantically as I begin to stand and walk away from the kitchen table. "Peeta, it's not real. I promise, it's not real." But he doesn't listen, and I run into the backyard, towards the rocky hill behind the house that leads down to the Seam. I look behind me, finding Peeta's large, muscular form chasing me. I sprint down the hill, but my leg snatches on a rock wedged out from the side of the decline, and I fall.

Peeta easily catches up with me. "No, Peeta! It's not real!" I yell, but he's too far gone. He towers over me, putting a strong hand around my neck, and throws me down against the hill. I tumble head-first down a patch of smooth but large rocks.

For some stupid, stupid reason, I begin to cry, like a child. I feel numerous sharp pains in my side as I begin to slide down the sharp incline, and with weak fingers I try to grasp a rock that juts out from the hill, but to no avail. I keep sliding, helpless, as more sharp rocks poke into my skin. My feet feel like they've been stabbed by one of Clove's knives, the balls of my feet raw, the skin splitting. I want to scream. I'm a huntress, for goodness sakes! I'm supposed to be able to navigate these things without hurting myself! But I guess it's harder with bare feet.

_Stop it_, I tell myself. _You have to be strong for Peeta. For goodness sakes, Katniss, STOP IT! STOP IT, Katniss, stop crying like a baby. Peeta's been strong for you. Peeta's been strong for you..._

He stares at me from a platform on the hill when a sob racks my body. I see his deep black eyes, and I start wobbling and shaking on the rocks. I land on my back and attempt to scramble when I see him climb down the decline slowly and carefully, making sure he doesn't fall or trip. When he gets close, his eyes return to it's normal bright blue and he frowns sadly. He stretches his arms out towards me. "Come here, sweetheart," he says quietly, his eyes glazed. I want to keep running. I'm not entirely sure if the real Peeta is back.

But I can't deny my Boy with the Bread.

A huge tear falls down my face as I reach for Peeta, and he scoops up me slowly, bringing me to his chest. His warmth makes my wounds burn, and I can see numerous streams of blood coming from various parts of my body. My shaking arms latch tightly onto his shoulders as he begins to climb slowly back up the hill.

I'm still sobbing and shaking as he puts me down under a shady tree in our backyard. I gasp for air between my damaged neck and the tears, and Peeta begins to cry. "I'm sorry, Katniss. I'm so sorry," he whispers as a tear falls down his cheek. I lift my hand as far as I can manage and wipe the tear off his cheek.

Peeta grows limp against me when I sit up, and I wrap my arms around him, press him into my body. "It's okay," I whisper to him as I rub his back. "It's okay." I feel his hand brush a sensitive spot on my neck, where a wound must be. He begins to sob, and I lace my fingers through his as I sing the lullaby to him.

He nuzzles me, his lips grazing my sensitive skin. I can feel his tears splashing onto my cheeks, and I run my fingers through his hair. "I love you, Peeta, no matter what happens. I will always love you."

* * *

Oh my God, that was terrible. Katniss was so OOC. Meh.


	9. Silk and Streams

Wow, it's been a while! sorry for the wait... I've been so busy! But here you are, some Katniss and Peeta fluff (well, a limey-lemon, actually). _Which makes this rated **M**_. You have been warned.

**Disclaimer**: Suzanne Collins owns this awesomeness. I just write fluff.

* * *

It took a good amount of time for Peeta to fit all the pieces of his and Katniss's relationship together. When he first knocked on the door to Katniss's home early after the war, after he planted primroses in her garden, he at first received no reply. But he was patient, just as he had been when he'd first loved her through his childhood. He heard the front door creak open, and then saw a pair of grey eyes looking at him.

But behind the grey eyes was a young, thin girl, who didn't look like she had been in a war, but one that had been left to starve. Peeta knew she hadn't eaten in perhaps a week. He immediately carried her over to his house despite her protests, and lay her down on his couch and gave her warm tea and raisin and nut bread, the kind he gave her that one rainy day. For the first time in a while, he pressed his lips to her forehead and covered her in a blanket as she was recovering from her cold house and the unbelieveably cold weather. She slowly, eventually, recovered.

...

He discovered eventually that his love was quite... odd. Sometimes he'd hear a strange swiping noise come from the closet in her - their - bedroom. She'd go into the closet, naked, and squirm around in a pile of clothing on the floor. She prefered silk, and sometimes she'd settle for fabrics that were just smooth and shiny. If she was left in there long enough, however, she'd become silent and start slamming and kicking things. Either way, Peeta though it was odd... and rather cat-like. He laughed at that comparison.

So, with a burst of joy, he'd pick up Katniss and put her on the bed, and they would playfully cuddle and wrestle in the crisp white bedsheets. Peeta never thought that Katniss would allow, nevermind enjoy, in this kind of thing. But she did, and he thought it was wonderful. He never expected his beautiful Katniss - the same one from the training center, the arena, or during the war - to light up like she did when he cuddled her. This didn't happen often, but when it did, it was bliss.

...

Today was one of those days, and Peeta was over the moon with this.

Katniss threw herself passionately against him, locking her lips against his, pulling him to her. He knew what she wanted, and he eagerly stripped them both of their clothes, hovering over her, brushing his hands everywhere on her glowing skin. He kissed her tender breasts, strong shoulders, smooth abdomen. He could feel Katniss shuddering under him. "Please, Peeta... I _need_ you," she gasped.

Peeta loved that. So when Katniss whispered those words, he positioned himself against her center and pushed himself into her, her warm and wet body welcoming him into it's hollow center. Peeta pumped his hips against her as he gripped her waist, holding his head against her cheek and keeping her steady. Her hands curled delicately around the back of his neck as he pushed himself in and out of her. She was breathless at the ecstasy she was feeling, how connected her and Peeta were. She couldn't tell where she ended and he began, and visa versa. She loved this feeling.

Katniss bucked her hips against his when both her and Peeta reached their heights together. She felt Peeta's hips bump against hers softly as he filled her with his warm seed, peppering her with kisses.

"I love you," he gasped as he pushed her hair away from her face and pulled her in for another kiss. "I love you so much." Peeta was overwhelmed. He was so incredibly lucky, he told himself, to have Katniss. This was the same girl that sang in class when he was five, saved her sister at the Reaping, held his hand on the chariot, and saved his life multiple times. Just to name a few things. He was so grateful to have his beautiful, brave Katniss.

He landed beside her, looking at her bright, happy grey eyes. He cupped her face with his palms and gave her a tender kiss. Katniss nuzzled him, brushing her lips against his cheeks, forehead, neck, shoulders, all the way down to his abdomen. They bathed in warm light as it streamed into the window, signaling it was early afternoon.

Both Peeta and Katniss wrapped themselves into the other, and they fell asleep until the sun once again set behind them.

* * *

Eh, it was okay. Anyone spare a review?


	10. Violent Dreams

{Wow, up to 22 reviews overnight! Amazing! Thank you, to all my reviewers!}

I seem to be churning out crap lately, so I'll see what I can do to make this interesting. There is some _harsh language_ in the _second and third bars_ of text when Peeta has a flashback. Two words only, nothing worse than what you hear in high school and such.

Do I have to do the disclaimer? Onwards!

* * *

I open my eyes to find Katniss sleeping quietly beside me in her - our - bed. Katniss suffered a horrible dream last night, one of the worst she's had. It took maybe four hours to finally get her back to sleep. My arm is still wrapped around her slowly growing waist (she recently started eating again) when I stretch to get out of bed. I place my pillow in the curve of her waist to keep her warm and give her a kiss on the forehead as I change my clothes and wash up for the day.

I trudge downstairs and begin my day as always, putting a fresh batch of fruit and nut bread into the oven while I cook bacon and eggs for Katniss. To tell you the truth, I'm not much of a meat kind of guy. It tastes good, I guess, but a large amount of it makes me queasy. But Katniss pretty much lives off of meat and has for most, if not all her life, so I'm not stopping her. I really like it when she brings home berries from the woods. There's at least four kinds and they all taste amazing. Katniss also likes to order fruits that we tasted in the Capitol or that are rarities in 12, like pears, oranges, and strawberries.

The oven crackles and I open the door to reveal a plump loaf of bread. I pull it out and it's scent wafts into my face immediately. This bread brings to many memories, of when I threw the bread to Katniss on that rainy day. The first gift between us. I place the bread on the counter and turn off the stove as the bacon and eggs sizzle on the pan.

I hear a slight shift coming from the stairs, and I see Katniss come downstairs in her PJ's, but otherwise ready for the day. Her eyes open a little wider at seeing the food, and I quickly grab a plate and fill up her plate, leaving myself a small patch of egg. She sits down at the table and immediately stuffs her face with bacon. I laugh and she scowls at me as she stuffs another slice in her mouth.

Katniss watches me as I sit down with two slices of bread and eggs on my plate. "Do you want my bacon?"

I look up at Katniss, and she's held up her last piece of bacon out to me. She stretches her arm out so the bacon is right near my mouth, gesturing me to take it with my mouth. She looks at me expectantly but softly, and I take it. She slowly sits back in her chair and grabs a fork to begin eating her eggs. I chew on the bacon, and it's just what I needed. I sigh after I swallow.

"You look tired," she says, standing and coming over to me to sit on my lap. She curls into my chest and hugs me. "You should take a day off work and stay here with me," she says a bit groggily. She looks up at me and take my hands in hers, playing with my fingers.

"But what about the staff?" I ask. I can't really leave all my staff there to their own devices.

Katniss kisses me on the cheek and squeezes my hand. "It's basically the same routine every day. They're prepared to make all the pastries and they can handle the customers and the shop on their own. Trust me, Peeta, the shop is in good hands."

I sigh at the comment, closing my eyes for a second as I curl my fingers around hers. "Okay," I say, kissing her hair. She responds with a squeeze from her arms that are around my abdomen.

We sit like that for about half an hour, and then we finish off the rest of the raisin and nut bread. This seems to ring back memories for Katniss as well, because she curls into my chest a little closer and becomes drowsy when we reach the end of the loaf. I carry her to the sofa, and we end up falling asleep.

* * *

I can see the sun starting to fall when I wake up, seeing Katniss skin and gut the game she caught yesterday. I feel my heart rise into my throat, my vision becoming blurry, my hands pinched with pain and strength.

_Katniss is a disgrace, a monster. Look at her cutting open those squirrels! She's done that all her life! She kills squirrels like she kills innocent people, like she almost did to me!_ No, Peeta, she saved you. That's why you're still here- _She is a monster! She tried to kill me, she used me to stay alive! How dare she!_ But I am al-

I can't tolerate this monster. She needs to go where she belongs. I stand up and run into the backyard, a perfect place to dispose of her. That Capitol monster. My _lover_? **Never**. New anger swells into me as I pick up speed and reach my arm out to her neck. I can almost reach her when she sprints away from the squirrel and scrambles up the tree in our backyard. I remember this trick, during the first Games when she kissed me for the cameras, to stay alive.

"Come down, you monster! You deserve to be killed! You are pathetic! You can't survive by yourself! You suck life out of others for your own gain! You selfish _bitch_!" I look up at Katniss, see her face twist into an odd direction and see her mouth move, like she's screaming. "Shut up, shut up!" I tell her. "You shouldn't be talking!You deserve to be dead! You killed all those innocent people!"

I look up at her, my prey, and see her eyes turn red and glaze over as if a river forms in her eyelids. I watch a river or tears run down her cheeks, her mouth harden and shake as she climbs slowly higher into the tree. I hope she dies up there. I'm not moving.

* * *

What did I just say? What did I just think? Peeta, you idiot! You _fucking_ idiot! You hurt her!

I realize this when I return to my normal self when the sun rises. I fell asleep under the tree behind Katniss's house, and I can still hear whimpers and ragged breathing from the tree. I look up and see Katniss near the top, curled on a forked branch, staring down at me blankly with glazed, red eyes.

"Katniss, I'm sorry," I tell her, looking up at her. She curls her head into her lap when I meet her eyes. "Katniss, I'm back. Please come down. I'm sorry about what happened. It was so sudden." I see her eyes look at me from her hunting jacket, glistening with tears. "I'm sorry, Katniss. I love you; you know that. I didn't mean any of those things. Please come down," I beg.

I watch uncurl herself and slowly make a shaky decline from about eighty feet up. She pauses at times, but with a few words she continues. When she's near the bottom I see her skin raw from climbing so suddenly, and from staying in an uncomfortable place all night. Blood trickles down her forearm as she comes closer. When she's five feet up, I can see her shaking so badly I think she'll fall any second.

"Come here, Katniss," I say gently. "I'm back, Katniss. Come here. Let's clean those marks, okay?" When she reaches out for me, I catch her in my arms and I see the severity of her condition. I bring her into the master bathroom and put her in the bathtub after I take off her hunting jacket and long pants. Her head and face are scratched in numerous places, her arms and hands and feet raw and bloody from climbing, her muscles weak and in need of care.

I grab a towel of warm water and rub it over her wounds as she battles sleep and tears. She must be exhausted, because she doesn't put any force into protecting herself when I clean the scars near her left ear, a sensitive area for her due to losing her hearing during our first Games. Her grey eyes fixate on me the entire time I wash her clean, and when I lift her from the tub, she hangs in my arms like a puppet.

* * *

Katniss stops crying when I finally get her settled down on our bed, and when I look down at her, her eyes are heavy. "I don't want a bad dream," she says flatly.

I kiss her hair and rub her back. "Dream of something nice. Like sunset."

"I've never dreamt of sunset before," she mumbles almost to herself. She pauses and nestles beside me, her eyes starting to close on their own.

"Dream of how much I love you," I whisper, my heart swelling at what I just said. I kiss her as she burrows her head into my chest, and within a minute, her breathing becomes even. I begin to play with her hair as her body becomes more quiet and still, and as the sun reaches it's highest peak, I fall asleep.

* * *

And that's that!

I also forgot to mention earlier that I don't use spellcheck or a beta for anything of mine, I write them on the document manager here on FF and don't bother with spellcheck (a bad habit of mine, honestly). So if any of my stuff has epic mistakes, please point them out and I can hopefully change them. Thanks!


	11. Only Peeta Can Give Me That

I seem to be churning out crap lately, so I hope this is satisfying... a bit. So, enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Katniss, Peeta, etc., and such.

* * *

In the middle of the flames I find Prim's body laying on it's side, staring past the black pavement on the grounds of her death. Her pale blue eyes sit still above her pale blue lips, her fingertips burned off. All of her skin in blackened, and I am suddenly aware of a force that is pulling us away from each other. I wave of fire passes between me and her, and I scream as I am yanked away from my sister. I cannot save her.

I am slammed onto my back and find myself against a layer of coal in the mines, hundreds of feet under the ground. I can't breathe or see, but something sticky and wet brushes against the back of my head. Someone behind me that I cannot see, a phantom, I assume, shines a light in front of them. The wet substance on the walls is blood. The person that the blood came from lays in pieces on the ground about fifteen feet ahead of me. The phantom shines it towards that direction. I see a foot shoved under a mound of coal, the bones of a hand left broken near my feet. The phantom shines the light a little further back.

It's my father.

I scream, and the phantom grabs me and starts pulling me back quickly, faster than I can register where I'm going. I try to look back, but the light blinds me.

The phantom then drops my from a tree, and I'm in a deeper part of the forest I only dared to go to with my father. I can see flowers and green grass and evergreens surrounding me. It smells like home, like a place better than what exists on earth. But a sound rings in my ears, and I step to the side to catch my balance. But I hit something solid. I look down.

Peeta.

I can finally breathe in this beautiful place. "Peeta! Peeta!" I yell, kneeling beside him. His body seems dead, unmoving, but a small part of his face finds me and looks into my eyes. He blinks slowly and a tear falls, but I catch it with my finger and wipe it away. His hand finds mine and I cling on for dear life. His mouth twitches and his eyes close. His hand goes limp. "Peeta, stay with me!" I yell. "Peeta, I can't lose you again! Please come back!" I put my hand on his heart to feel for life. I feel one long, shuddering thump, and he exhales, his last breath taken. His heart becomes still.

I grab onto his shirt and don't hold back the tears any longer. "Peeta, Peeta," I cry, holding his face in my hands. I feel that same force pulling us apart from each other, the phantom pulling me by the neck. I start grabbing onto Peeta anywhere I can as I lose traction on the ground, and when I finally get a stable grip on his hand, he starts to sink into the ground. I start to scream and cry for him, for death to give back all it's taken, but I know death is unforgiving.

The phantom takes me away, into the Meadow. I see Gale sitting on our little perch, a rock that overhangs a cliff looking towards the mountains and the forest. I am about ten feet away from him. Just one step and I can reach out to him. But the phantom holds me where I am, a sickening weight in my ankles keeping me tied to the ground. I call for Gale, but he doesn't look away from the mountains ahead of him. My voice becomes louder and more desperate, until I scream and wail at the top of my lungs.

Then Gale turns to me, his grey Seam eyes staring right past me. Not looking into my eyes, or anywhere in particular. But past me. When he speaks, he sound like he's behind a wall of glass. He then turns his head and points towards the setting sun behind the mountain. In the distance, I see winged figures.

I see them. The people that have died because of me. The people that that I love, even somewhere deep down. Prim, my father, Peeta, Finnick, Boggs, Cinna, Cato, Clove, Foxface, Rue, Marvel, Wiress, Seeder, Chaff, Jackson, Madge.

I look back to Gale, and he begins to sit up, his back stretched out and revealing a gold pair of wings to me. He kneels at the edge of the rock and tips himself over, his wings carrying him over to them. He finds his place behind Madge and Jackson and flies out of my sight.

Not only sadness, but anger fills my veins, stings at my heart. I sharply turn around, looking for the phantom. I can't see them, but their pressure is still on me. I scream for them to reveal themselves, and I find myself looking into pale blue eyes, sunken into a wrinkly and deep skull. My mother.

I scream at her, asking to be released. But with unnatural strength, she throws me off the cliff, releasing me, and I fall onto a patch of grass, feeling hard pressure against my back. And then I feel something touching my cheek, my hair, my waist, my arm. But it's not my mother, I can tell.

"Katniss," I hear. It's soft in volume but desperate in pitch. The person of the voice, I can tell, is who is touching me. "Katniss. Katniss, wake up." What?

My eyes open, a painful rush of air filling the space above them. My eyes are sticky, and I realize it's with tears. I move my hand, which feels like something that isn't in my control, that is not part of my body, and touch my cheeks. Fresh tears roll down my cheeks, but I don't feel the normal emotions that come with them. Other than overwhelming confusion, I feel numb.

"Katniss," Peeta whispers. I turn to him. I see his blue eyes, soft, wavy blonde hair. He looks very tired. And then I remember how, in my dream, yes, that's what it was, he was calling me. But he had sunk into the ground.

I feel Peeta wrapping his arms around me before I register the tears that are errupting from my eyes. And like nearly every night - like we did on the train, in the training center, in the arena, and after all this time - Peeta holds me until I cease to cry, and he's is there for me until my eyes can't stay open any longer.

_.:LoveConquersAll:._

When I wake up, Peeta is dressed for the day and making two of my three favorite dishes: cheese buns and lemon tarts. When I pad down the stairs, Peeta gives me a small smile and leaves two dishes of pastries on the table. But I don't want food now. Maybe later.

I walk over to Peeta and immediately wrap my arms around him, giving him a kiss on the cheek, seeing the lines under his eyes. "Did I keep you up long?"

He frowns, but squeezes me. "Not any longer than what you had on the train." He kisses me on the forehead as I curl my fingers behind his soft, wavy blonde hair.

After a long pause, I ask a question I've been meaning to ask all this time. "Peeta?"

"Hmm?"

"Why... why did you choose me, after all this? Why do you put up with all of my nightmares? You deserve better, Peeta. You know that."

Peeta looks down at me sadly. "Because you're all I've ever seen. All I've ever needed. You are the only person that I ever want to spend the rest of my life with. Because we saved, and protect, each other. That's what we have done. That's what we will always do. Because you're the only person I love." He squeezes my hand and kisses my cheek as he speaks again. "So, why did you choose me?"

"Because... I realized that I didn't need Gale's fire. I have plenty of that myself. But what I needed is the dandelion in the spring," I tell him quietly, to not make the cracks in my voice visible as I begin to cry. "The bright yellow that means rebirth. Instead of destruction, the promise that life can go on, no matter how bad the losses. That life can be good again." I can't contain the tears anymore. I wrap my arms around Peeta as I say, "And only you can give me that."

Peeta squeezes me tighter, wiping the tears off my cheeks. "Thank you," he whispers to me. I feel so safe and happy here, I dread the moment when, once again, my Boy with the Bread lets go.


End file.
